


The Cat, Selling

by valerienne (valderys)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: waymeet, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2010-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valerienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for Sean to step up, be a man, and earn his place among the Fellowship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat, Selling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hijinks Challenge in 2008. My prompt was _the cat selling_ and it and all the prompts came from a list of Mediaeval games in Rabelais' _Gargantua and Pantagruel_.

There was quiet in the trailer, with all of the Fellowship – well, almost all – crowded inside. The air was heating up, the scent of male bodies, make-up, and wet wool all contributing to a pleasantly warm fug. People looked at each other, no-one really willing to break the sudden silence.

"Look," said Sean Astin, at last, "You can't expect anything from Orlando. He's… flighty."

"Hey!" said Orlando, pouting. Sean stared at him with his best no-nonsense Sam-like gaze. Orlando stopped pouting, dropped his eyes, and laughed instead. "If you say so, Seanie, I'm not going to argue – anything for a quiet life."

Sean huffed a little, but looked pleased anyway. It wasn't often that Orli indulged him, rather than took the piss, but this _was_ important.

"And it's obvious that Elijah's unsuitable," Sean continued.

Everyone turned to look at Elijah. He was perched on the make-up bench, leaning on the mirror, one hand wrapped around his knees, the other in his mouth. He stopped biting his nails for a second to ask, "What?" He looked confused.

"Seanie's right," said Dom, leaning over to ruffle his hair. "You look about twelve, Lij. We don't want to be done for flogging jailbait."

"I'm eighteen, and you fucking know it, Dom," Lij said indignantly, "And that's not what you said last…"

"That's quite enough of that. The potty mouth won't impress her either," said Dom, hurriedly, "Why can't I go? It's not like the Cat doesn't know me."

"Knows you, has your address and bank details," said Billy, smirking. "Like anyone else you've been drinking with, or even met you in the street if last night was anything to go by…"

"Hey!" said Dom, and mock-punched Billy's shoulder, who couldn't exactly pull away, squished in as they were. He was giggling as Dom tried to pull him into a headlock. Dom grinned widely as he laughed into Billy's hair.

"And that would be why we can't use Dom," said Sean, still looking stern, although he was trying not to smile, "And also because, if you remember, you've been grounded by Peter, since the fountain incident."

"Yeah, and that's still not fair, everyone knows it was Lij!"

Elijah grinned, and looked even more angelic. "Young, and yet so very cunning. Come learn at my feet, young apprentice."

"Just wait to see what I bloody do at your feet, you…"

Sean winced, just faintly. "So. Moving on."

"What about me? I'd be happy to help, my dear boy, you know that. Shall I brave the Cat in her lair?" said Ian then, looking both amused and intrigued. He dropped his voice to give his words a more pantomime, sinister air.

Dom raised both eyebrows, and stopped trying to wrestle both Billy and Elijah at the same time. He wasn't having much success anyway, so instead, he settled down between them, perched on the back of Billy's chair, leaning back into Elijah.

Sean cleared his throat. "Well. That would be… That is…"

"Ian, we love you, mate, you know that. Hell, me Mam sends you Coronation Street tapes along with my footie, you know that, but, well. You have the opposite problem to Elijah." Sean Bean was lounging on the small ratty sofa, looking more comfortable than any man had a right to in the close proximity to Viggo's most ragged and fragrant old sweater. "You're too old, mate. Sorry. So am I, by the way. Not to mention she said she couldn't cope with my accent."

"Well, she does seem to require charm of a certain variety," said Sean Astin, his finger straying to the corner of his mouth, betraying his uncertainty.

"Or she'd think you were the fuzz!" Elijah piped up, excitement colouring his voice. Dom winced.

"Yeah, that's quite enough of that, Lij," he said, "We'll let you out when you've learnt to talk proper-like."

All the British sniggered. All the Americans looked confused.

"Surely, I'm suitable," said a calm voice from beside Sean Bean. Viggo leaned forward, and draped himself comfortably on Sean's shoulder. "She and I talked, last time. She has many things to say on the topics of desire and repression, on capacity and change, on managing your limits. It was interesting."

Sean Astin seemed to be in pain. Or possibly constipated. "Umm. I don't know how to put this, Viggo, but..."

Dom sat up again. "You bored the pants off her. She thinks you're pretty, but retarded."

"Yes, Dom, thank you for your less than tactful assessment of the situation." Sean said, looking embarrassed. Dom shrugged.

Viggo merely smiled serenely and leant back on the sofa. "It's her loss in the end."

There was a silence among them again. A heavier one somehow, as each choice was considered, and then discarded again. A certain gloom descended, despite Elijah's attempts to entertain the multitude by seeing exactly _how_ far he could get Dom's ears to stick out.

Uncertainly, Orlando said, "I don't suppose we could ask John, could we…?" He trailed off.

"Do you want to do it, mate?" asked Dom.

They all imagined that for a moment. There was a small shudder that rippled round the group.

"So. It has to be me," said Sean, heavily. "That's what I thought. It's my turn anyway."

Elijah opened his eyes wide and leant past Dom, who oofed when most of Elijah's weight was transferred to his arm. Elijah gripped Sean tightly by the shoulder.

"Are you sure, man? Are you sure you're up for it? You don't have to."

Sean smiled bravely. He was nervous, they could all tell that, but then, the Cat made most people nervous.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," said Dom, "We can't send Sean. She'll eat him alive. Not to mention that it's not even as if Sean actually uses…"

"No, I want to do it," Sean interrupted. His hands were clenched, but he had a determined expression. "I'm part of this Fellowship, part of you guys, you've got to let me."

There was a general sighing and rustling that signalled reluctant agreement – and the putting of hands in pockets. Sean took all that was offered and also shook several of those hands. It made a lump come to his throat.

When it came to Ian's turn he leaned down a little and murmured, "Why don't I lend you Matt and the car. He can wait for you outside. I am also happy to be at your disposal, my dear boy. If it would help."

Tears in his eyes, Sean just nodded.

***

The avenue was innocuous and quiet. There were well-grown trees whispering in the slight breeze, and large cars in the driveways. Nothing moved, but a black cat sat watching them from a well-manicured lawn. Ian raised an eyebrow.

"She's done better for herself than the rest of us," he observed, and patted Sean's knee. "That's only to be expected, I suppose."

Sean swallowed. Ian looked at him. "You really don't have to do this, you know. You have a family, my dear, no-one expects you to..."

"And that's the problem," Sean said, fiercely, "No-one expects _anything_ of me. I'm the odd one out. The stick-in-the-mud, the one that goes to bed early, the safe one. I don't party with you, I don't go drinking with you, I don't... do anything with you. But I miss it, Ian, do you see?" He looked out of the window, but it wasn't the ornamental birdbath he was seeing. "How can I miss something that I've never really had?"

"We're still a Fellowship, Sean," said Ian, seriously, his eyes kind. "That means something to us all, despite the, ah, occasional levity. Please don't forget that."

"And doing this for you guys lets me give something back," said Sean, and took a deep breath. He opened the car door. "Wish me luck."

"I'll do better than that," said Ian, and leaned over, thrusting a small box into his hands. Sean looked at it.

"Rum truffles," said Ian, sheepishly. "A little bird told me they're her favourite."

Sean nodded, and then his jaw set. He got out of the car and walked quickly up the driveway, turning to mount the steps up to the shiny front door. He rang the bell. There was a pause before a slim figure appeared behind the wavy glass window. The door opened.

An attractive blond woman stood on the step, slim and casual in jeans and a white shirt. She frowned slightly when she saw who had come calling. She glanced into the street and observed Ian in the car, before directing a dauntingly quelling gaze at Sean.

"Well?" she asked.

"Umm, I'm here for the usual order..."

"Well, of course, you are." She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. Sean found he wanted to squirm like a particularly embarrassed school boy.

"This can't continue," she said.

Sean blinked, his heart sinking. Had he done something wrong? The guys would kill him if he'd manage to upset her in less than a minute.

"Er... Here, I brought you a present!" He thrust the chocolates into her hands. She made an exasperated noise, and raised her eyes to Heaven as though seeking understanding from a higher power. Sean stood humbly, waiting for her wrath to fall.

"Look, what will you do when I'm gone," she said, finally. "I won't be here forever, now will I?"

Sean shrugged, and tried to look appeasing. It worked on Christine. Sometimes.

She sighed, defeated, and opened the door. "This is why they sent you, isn't it, Sean? For your puppy dog eyes."

"Is it working?" he asked, and smiled, looking up. She was giving in, he could tell. He fished in his pocket, clutching at the money the others had given him.

Cate Blanchett laughed and beckoned him in. "For God's sake, send them to get their own dope in future. You guys have _got_ to find a better dealer..."


End file.
